


Adopted, Abandoned, and Found

by SirChester



Series: Soldier, Poet, King [1]
Category: Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts (Cartoon)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I hope Wolf and Scarlemagne get to talk in season 3, they have a lot in common with their pasts though I doubt they’d care to admit that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24890872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirChester/pseuds/SirChester
Summary: A nighttime chat between two begrudging Oak siblings, brought together by a certain pink haired jaguar girl. A focus on found family that would be unconnected and likely at ends if not for the mutual 'glue' character between them.
Series: Soldier, Poet, King [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801099
Comments: 7
Kudos: 163





	Adopted, Abandoned, and Found

**Author's Note:**

> Wolf dropping the crown in the final season 2 ep had huge ‘littlest sister breaking your favorite toy’ energy. Assuming we get a full Scarlemagne redemption in the coming seasons, I really hope we get some sibling trio comedy and fluff. This fic takes place in a sort of between-time, where Scarlemagne is still imprisoned for his crimes but has tipped the redemption scales. 
> 
> (Also, Soldier, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos makes me think of the Oak siblings from youngest to oldest, hence the name of this series.)

A large, regal mandrill and a small, wolfskin-wearing kid sat a significant distant apart on a hilltop. 

Wolf turned back to glance at her older adopted sister. Kipo waved and gave a hearty thumbs up from a distance before heading back into the trees. The two Timbercat guards remained visible, keeping a watchful eye on their prisoner. In the distance, Benson and Troy sang some kind of jingle about flapjack making in perfect sync.

The hilltop was peaceful, but not exactly where either of them wanted to be right now, either. 

“So.” Wolf didn’t even look at the towering mute beside her. “Anything in particular you want to talk about, monkey?”

She could hear the pompous smile in his voice. “Mandrill, of the Cercopithecidae family and Mandrillus genus. And you speak as if this was something I planned to follow through on. Truthfully, I only accepted Kipo’s request so I might enjoy some fresh air outside that cell. I’m also well aware you are not one for words, so don’t feel pressure to maintain a witty dialogue with me, Wolfatha Christie the Fourth.”

“That’s not my name.”

“Is it not? I’ve heard Kipo refer to you as such a few times. A name can only be improved when extended. ‘Wolf’ is so terribly boring by comparison.” 

“Never mind.” 

Kipo had insisted the two spend time talking as members of her ever-growing adopted Oak family, now that Scarlemagne was suitably remorseful for his actions. Or so he claimed to her, as such statements tended to garner her praise, and he'd developed an apetite for truthful, heartfelt praise because of her. Kipo would believe anything he said, but he found that over the months they spent together, his bluffs became a bit more honest than he’d like to admit. 

Wolf was not so easily tricked, and rightfully suspicious. She had not expected their family to grow, and to include a former mute tyrant, no less. The prospect of having him as a brother she outright rejected. But still, if Kipo _absolutely_ insisted, a friendly acquaintance is something she might be able to manage. 

Wolf took out the slip of paper Kipo handed her as a conversation ‘guide’. “Look, Kipo is gonna be sad if I come back from this and don’t have anything at all to share for it. So, uh…” She squinted at the paper. “’What is your favorite color?’”

“Ah, a simple question game. Often done when testing linguistics. Reminds me of my childhood.” Scarlemagne's smile turned a bit dark. 

“Answer, monkey.”

“Hm…I quite like red. It is striking and classic. But royal purple is a close second. Did you know the shade was first used when nobles colored their finest fabric with dye from a sea snail?” 

“Fascinating.” 

“Yourself, dear Wolfatha?” 

“Grey. Easy to blend in with surroundings.” 

“A dreadfully predictable answer.”

Wolf waved her hand. “Next question. Favorite food?” 

“I’m very fond of cherries jubilee. Oh, but I do love a blancmange on the days I’m feeling indulgent. Which is every day.” He gave an airy laugh. “And you?”

“Mandu.”

“Ah yes, I’m not a fan of the dish myself, or rather, I once was, but—“

“Nope. The pig.”

Scarlemagne looked at her, expecting some sort of facial accompaniment with the jest, but she wasn’t smiling. 

“I’m kidding. My real answer is anything that I can get to stop moving before I eat it. I like to sit down for meals.“ Not a single, deadpan face muscle out of order. Compared to Scarlemagne’s performative gestures, the eleven year old’s statuesque disposition was almost chilling. 

“...Right, aha. How about the next question?” 

“This is dumb.” Wolf shoved the list back in her pocket. “I got two new things to tell her. That should be plenty.”

“Until the next time she sets up one of these playdates for us. Kipo is nothing if not persistent.” 

“Yeah, she’s an idiot.” Wolf smiled fondly, speaking half to herself. “But I wouldn’t have any other sister.”

Scarlemagne stayed quiet. After all this time, Kipo was the only person he felt truly close with. The idea of having to share was somewhat unpleasant…unless, of course, he could be part of what was being shared. 

“I’m sure you know I am technically her older brother. I suppose that makes you my little sister as well, does it not?” 

Wolf’s smile instantly dropped. “Doesn’t matter. You won’t be coming to live with us in a burrow any time soon. Not after everything you did.” 

“Oh, well that's rather harsh.” 

She fixed him with a look. “I have no intention of taking a full mute as a sibling at this point.”

“Harsher still. Yes, I enslaved your race for the briefest of moments, but you know. I apologized. Just a mere trifle in the grander plot of things.” 

Wolf looked away. “It has nothing to do with you, so don’t worry about it. I feel this way around most mutes. It was hard enough to get used to Kipo and her jaguar side.” 

“Oh, I quite understand. My hatred for humans used to run deep. Sometimes I must remind myself I no longer despise them, in fact. Kipo is acceptable as a part human. You, on the other hand, are on much thinner ice, particularly after destroying my crown.” He looked menacing, for just a moment, before softening up. “Of course, I dare not villanize someone who means so much to our dear sister and whom she insists I must treat as a baby sibling. Still, I can hardly be blamed knowing what my—well, what those two scientists did. ” 

Wolf refused to look back at him, touching the wolf snout above her brow. “Try having a little perspective, monkey. You’re not the only one who was hurt by people you loved.” 

That peaked Scarlemagne's curiosity. He glanced up at the wolf head and back down to her. “Following such an enigmatic statement, I simply must ask for more. First, the wolfskin upon your head. You wear a part of a mute on your person, day to day, despite your stated hatred, so it must have some significance to you beyond a quick supper. What is the tale behind it?” 

“I found it.” Wolf tugged on one end subconsciously. 

“You are an awfully terrible liar. I would know, I’m an excellent one.” 

“You seriously want me to tell you?” Wolf sounded unconvinced. “It’s not about you or Kipo, so I doubt you’ll find it interesting.” 

“On the contrary. I'm aware that Kipo, in all her eagerness to spread sympathy for me, shared every detail of my history with you. Can you blame me for wanting such precious info repaid? You owe it to me. Of course, I know I cannot force you. Or rather, I should not, heh.” He smiled with all his teeth, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow and flicking it onto the grass. 

“…Fine. But if you offer commentary or do that annoying laugh of yours at any point I start again from the beginning.”

“A bit excessive, but very well. Spin me your finest yarn.” 

Wolf started into her story. She went into just as much detail as when she told Benson, almost in a trance from dredging the awful memory up in her mind. Still, she knew the more she got used to saying it, the less terrible it would feel. 

Scarlemagne was rapt throughout. He did not often stay quiet for long, enjoying the sound of his own voice far too much. But he simply had to know what barbaric human impulse would lead Wolf to betray her warm adoptive mute pack to the extent of wearing one of their carcasses upon her head. 

Then he learned it was not Wolf who did the betrayal. 

She reached up her hand and pulled the wolf snout down over her face as she shared the chilling plot twist: “…But so is your prey.” 

As the implication registered, Scarlemagne lost hold of his superior half-lidded regard, and went fully wide-eyed and slack-jawed. 

Wolf was convinced she’d tell the story with even more composure than last time. So as she plowed through the final details of how she ran, she fell, she got up, she fought, and she took the life of the pack matriarch, she tried to blink away the tears. And failed. Damn Kipo had weakened her ability to hold in her feelings. 

Luckily the wolf head blocked her face. But it did not block the subtle shudder of her shoulders, or the occasional, choppy breath. She wished her sister was here, but she didn't want to get up and run away to find her, either. 

Scarlemagne’s read on Wolf up to this point was fairly consistent: quiet, stoic, rather bland taste in clothes beside the grisly wolfskin, occasionally quippy when least expected. He respected her for that. To see her looking so small, like the kid she was, and experiencing a strong emotion felt…wrong. It did not match her aesthetic and made for an awfully inconsistent visage. 

And perhaps, when framed in the context of his second baby sister who’d been shattered by this world as young as he had, it made his heart hurt, too. 

Given a few more years of healing and attachment forming, his response to Wolf crying would have been simple and sweet: hug her close so his youngest sibling felt safe, could hide her face properly, and would not feel alone in reliving a trauma that hit a bit too close to home for his liking. Not that the option didn’t cross his mind now. But that horribly sentimental suggestion came from Hugo, who’s mental whispers were quiet but oh so persistent, even if they could not yet rise above his executive monarch thought. 

Still, the nagging persistence led him to strike a mental compromise. 

Wolf felt light fabric drape over her back. She tipped up the wolf snout to see the faded print of stars. 

Scarlemagne was not looking at her, instead staring up at the sky. 

“Wrap it all the way around your shoulders.”

“W-what?”

“It’s warmer that way.”

Without any further prompting, Wolf pulled the star blanket tight around herself until it was like a blanket cocoon. It held more of Kipo’s scent than Scarlemagne’s, making it all the more comforting. 

Wolf’s voice was scarcely a mumble. “They never loved me. I shouldn’t care so much.” 

Scarlemagne’s voice was unusually soft. “I believe it is difficult to stop caring for the first people we ever loved. Or rather, not stop caring for them, but stop caring about how they hurt us.”

Wolf stared at the grass. “Thanks for the blanket.”

“Thank Kipo.” 

She waited until she was fully calm to speak again. 

“So. There you go, monkey. That’s my tragic past and why I wear this thing. Satisfied?”

Scarlemagne looked her up and down, deciding on the best selection of words for this somber occasion. “I…am sorry, that happened to you. That level of savagery is a disgrace to all mutekind.”

Wolf smirked. “Wow. Coming from an ex-tyrant with a taste for manipulation and eagerness to enslave us inferior humans, my pack must have been pretty damn terrible.” 

“You were a child.” He was serious in such a way that did not fit his opulent aesthetic. “You still are.”

“No, I'm not. I made sure that part of me died that evening. I’m not a child or a teen or an adult. I’m just a survivor.”

“I see.” Scarlemagne tilted his head. “Hm, that is funny."

"What is?"

"Young, lost, and all alone. Dying childhood innocence given the killing blow by our own hand. Adopted, abandoned, and found. Perhaps you and I are not so different, Wolfatha.”

“Wrong. You wanted courts of mind-controlled people and forced loyalty and, let’s face it, validation.” Wolf puffed her little chest. “ _I_ am talented enough to not need a kingdom to do my work for me.”

“Oh, are you, now?” Scarlemagne smiled with all his teeth, but there was no malice in it this time. He did have to resist a brief, Hugo-driven temptation to reach out and ruffle her fluffy hair. 

“And I was content to stay independent forever, until Kipo dragged me into all her nonsense. That’s the sort of mettle and grit my experience brought me.”

“Perhaps. But I put up a much more valiant fight in staying true to my values, twisted as they were. Whereas I understand it took one sopping hug and heart-to-heart to break your rather thin facade.” 

Wolf tried to pretend she wasn’t blushing. “Are you saying you’re tougher than me?”

“I never said that. Is it on your mind?” 

She poked him with the blunted end of Stalky. “I’ll drop the rest of you down this hill if you’re not careful.” 

“Oh my. Whatever would dear sister Kipo think of that?” Scarlemagne daintily moved the stick away, still grinning. 

Wolf couldn’t help her own smile.”You know what, monkey, you’re not entirely wrong. We do have something in common. We have the same, pink-haired weakness.” 

“Heh. Right you are.” 

They looked back up at the sky. Wolf, still bundled in her blanket, leaned a bit closer. Scarlemagne did the same, making the gap between them shrink enough to look like they were sitting beside one another

The temporary peace was interrupted by a very loud squeal. 

“Aww, _you guys!_ ” The sentence came moments before Kipo leapt into both of them, hooking an arm around one of their shoulders. “You didn’t come back after the ten minute mark but the Timbercats said all was good so I came looking for you, and I see you two talking! And sitting closer together than you started! And Wolf, that _blanket!_ ” 

“Hey, Kipo,” Wolf said, choosing not to address any of that. 

“I was so worried about you two getting along, cuz like, you’re both really strong personalities and so stubborn and super opposites but also so crazy similar in a lot of ways. But look at you both! You’re bonding! I’m so proud of my big bro and little sis. Oak family love grows by the day!” 

“It was just a chat,” Scarlemagne assured. “Also, I would like the blanket back.” He paused. “If you are ready to take it off.”

Wolf immediately removed it and tossed it to him, standing up. “Okay, I’m gonna head to bed.”

“Night, sis!” Kipo gave her a tight hug and goodnight kiss on the forehead. 

“Night, Kipo.” She hugged back, then waved to Scarlemagne. “Night, monkey.”

“Rest well, Wolfatha.” 

Once she was out of earshot, Kipo asked about how it went, and gave another “ _eee!_ ” of nonverbal excitement and shook Scarlemagne’s shoulder once she heard.

“You unlocked her backstory! That’s huge progress!”

Scarlemagne scratched at his collar. “It was a bit more, that is, _horrific_ than I anticipated? I do take delight in an impressive act of deception, but…”

Kipo’s smile turned soft, her tone calmer. “It’s not so delightful when it happens to someone you're starting to care about, huh?” 

Scarlemagne didn’t reply, just stood up himself, bundled blanket folded in his hands. “I feel unusually eager to return to my cell at this moment.”

“Aw, okay. Well, I’m still proud of you! I’m gonna teach you two how to hug each other next. Pro-tip about our baby sis: Wolf goes stiff as a board for like the first couple of seconds of a hug, but if you hold her long enough, she suddenly melts right into your arms and it’s the cutest thing ever.” She started heading back beside him. 

"Kipo." 

"Hm?" 

"Are you...certain that is what Wolf wants? All this sibling talk, I mean." 

"Oh yeah, her and I already claimed each other as sisters ages ago. I mean, it took a little elbow grease and a lot of love because of the whole half mute thing, but we got there eventually!" 

"I'm referring to myself. My relationship with her, as her brother. Does she...actually want me to be her brother? She may be reticent on the matter with you, to not make you upset, but she outright told me otherwise this evening. And knowing what I know now, I cannot blame her." 

"Ohh." Kipo hummed. "I'll have to talk with her about it. Yeah, it's not you personally, it's just because she had such a traumatic experience with a fully mute sibling, and you were, uh, quite awful towards humans yourself at a point. It might take her a bit more time." 

"Okay..." Scarlemagne looked down at his hands, a familiar and uncomfortable uncertainty settling back into his stomach. 

"But Hugo, _listen_. Wolf's my little sister, but you're my big brother, and nothing can change that. I'd really love for us to all be siblings, but if Wolf isn't okay with that, we'll just have to find another title for her to call you. I don't plan on letting you go, ever, so we're just gonna have to figure it out and find ways to make her feel safe around you. Bet those hug lessons will come in handy for that!" She nudged into him affectionately, and he visibly relaxed. Unike with her parents, her could tell her words were sincere. 

"Thank you, Kipo. Really." 

“And hey, regardless of what Wolf thinks right now, it’s our job as her only family to look out for her. Even if she insists she doesn’t need our help, we have to be there for her and protect her when it matters and never let her feel unwanted again. She's tough as nails, but she's still eleven.” 

Scarlemagne looked over to where Wolf now stood, dressed in donut-print pajamas that must have been Kipo's, fully unaware of the fact she was being watched. She gave a tiny, admittedly adorable yawn and scratched Mandu on the head with a sleepy grin. A 'survivor', indeed. 

His smile was gentle. 

“Yes, I do believe that is a promise I can keep.”


End file.
